


Live_Forever.AVI

by erroetcresco



Category: The Creatures | Cow Chop RPF
Genre: Fake Syndicate, Gen, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-03-17 15:01:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13661445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erroetcresco/pseuds/erroetcresco
Summary: Aleks drove them deep into the desert like he always did when someone when in his trunk, and pulled over from the road, off into the desert where no one would be likely to see them. But what happens when the man in his trunk turns out to be from his past?(Pre-Relationship to NovaHD)Work title from Mystery Skulls. (Renamed from Its_A_Trip.AVI)





	1. Its_A_Trip.AVI

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Life comes at you fast and hard. Sometimes, not everyone makes it.](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/357150) by themodestcubed. 



> This piece is inspired by a video made by themodestcubed on tumblr, and by my patreon.avi headcanons from way back when. 
> 
> You can find both at my tumblr (erroetcresco) under the fake chop tag.

The thing is - Los Santos might not have been kind to Aleks, but it he had been through worse. Here, at least he had fast cars, clean clothes, a couple of people to watch his back. It wasn’t like it had been in the Creatures, he didn’t feel at home here, but sometimes survival was all you could ask for. As he rested his unlit cigarette out the window of the speeding car, Aleks couldn’t help but shake the feeling that something was off. A branch of the Fake syndicate had tucked a squirming, hooded body in his trunk, and Aleks was the one who was supposed to take care of it. True, joining the syndicate was less a choice and more of a move for survival, but they hadn’t done him wrong yet. He wasn’t sure what was off about the drop to spook him this much, and he wasn’t sure if he should just shrug off his instincts. In the passenger seat, Brett stared out the window, oblivious to Aleks’ mood. 

Still, Aleks drove them deep into the desert like he always did when someone when in his trunk, and pulled over from the road, off into the desert where no one would be likely to see them. 

“I’ll go grab ‘em” Brett said, grunting softly as he pushed himself up from his seat. While Brett popped the trunk open, Aleks took the time to lean up against the clean, white lambo and flick open his silver lighter. After lighting his cigarette, he wiped the worst of his fingerprints off the reflective surface, and slid it back into his pocket. Brett pushed the hooded man past him as he took a long drag, and Aleks tensed. There was something, something, maybe the slope of the man’s shoulders, something that scratched uncomfortably at the back of his head. He stepped forward, and the man tried to shake Brett’s hand from his shoulders - but Brett just tightened his grip. Pursing his lips, Aleks blew a tight furl of smoke into the covered face of the man, and he jerked again, this time away from the smell. Brett kicked the back of his knees out, forcing him to kneel. Aleks took another breath of smoke, feeling the nicotine seep into his bloodstream. He met Brett’s eyes, nodded, and rearranged his posture. He was relaxed, he was confident, he was judge, jury, and executioner for the Fakes. Aleks pulled his pistol from where it was tucked up against the small of his back with his free hand, and carefully flicked the ash away from where it could get on his white shirt. Brett yanked the hood off. 

“Frank,” Aleks started, before the black bag was fully off , before his breath caught in his throat, and he was watching the man kneeling in front of him shake long, loose curls from his face. 

“Oh,” James said, and it was James, James, but he was different, he had gained muscle and lost some weight, his hair was long and soft around his shoulders - he was wearing a god awful Hawaiian shirt. He both was and wasn’t the James Aleks remembered from the Creatures, from what he had considered his family. He dropped the cigarette into the sand shifting under his scrubbed adidas. 

“You,” Aleks said, at the same moment James opened his mouth and said:

“You’re blonde now.” 

Brett had let James’ shoulder go at this point, had taken a step back. Aleks realized he was doing the same as the action happened, unconsciously putting distance between them. James was staring at Aleks with a steady gaze, his brown eyes still familiar enough to twist something in his chest. It had been a few years, a hard few years, but you don’t forget your family. Aleks raised his hands to his head, gun still in his grip. It wasn’t like he was going to use it now, didn’t matter what the Fakes had to say about it. 

“You’re not who I expected,” Brett said, sounding mildly impressed. That could definitely be said again. James wasn’t supposed to be here. When they had to leave the Creatures, their home, just to get out before it burned, James left. James went clean, said he was done, said he was sticking to the straight and narrow. James and Aleks left together, but then James left Aleks too, and he had to join the syndicate if he wanted to be safe. The syndicate watched his back when James had left it unprotected. 

“What the fuck are you -” Aleks started, not sure what question he wanted to ask first. He managed to settle on “Why did Fakehaus stick you in my trunk?” 

“Can you put down the gun, first?” James asked, tone overly bored for someone who had his hands tied behind his back and knees in desert sand. Aleks looked down at the silver pistol in his grip. Did James really think he would use it? 

“What? I’m not going to shoot -” Aleks cut off and flinched when a gunshot cracked through the air. He spun around, pistol raised. 

“Aleks, put the gun down,” James said, and he must think Aleks was stupid. Someone was shooting at them. A figure was picking their way down a dune, eighty feet from them at least, but Aleks raised his pistol again, leveling the muzzle at whoever this was. His shots would probably go wide if he shot now, but he was ready. 

“Aleksandr,” James ground out, “That my backup, don’t fucking shoot.”

“Hold up, what?” Brett asked, and Aleks glanced back at him to see he still had his pistol raised. That made sense. Brett had known James, but not anywhere close to how Aleks knew him. Brett would definitely keep them covered. Aleks lowered his, just a bit, to look at James. 

“Backup?” He asked. James rolled his eyes. 

“Well, I didn’t think I knew the owner of the trunk I was stuffed in, asshole,” he snapped. At this point, Aleks could make out a sandy blonde haired man, denim up to his ears and wearing a cowboy hat. 

“Who the fuck is he?” Aleks asked James, gesturing towards the man who came to a stop in front of them. He held a shotgun in both hands with a casual air that meant he also knew how to use it. 

“If you want to get out of here alive, I suggest you let this man go,” the stranger drawled. 

“That’s Asher. Asher, shut up, it’s fine, I know them,” James said, loud enough to be heard. “And what did I tell you about that shitty Southern accent?” 

“Really? I think it sounds badass,” Asher said, dropping both the accent and the muzzle of the shotgun. It swung down to point at the ground. 

“That was supposed to be Southern?” Brett muttered, and Aleks glanced over to see him lower his pistol, finally. Somewhere in the back of his head, he wished that Brett would keep it up. 

“Well, you don’t sound badass. Is anyone gonna help me up? Maybe untie my hands?” James asked, sounding both angry and cheerful, like Aleks and Brett hadn’t dragged him out here in a trunk, like he hadn’t been gone from Aleks’ life for years, like he wasn’t kneeling in desert sand wearing a goddamned awful Hawaiian shirt. 

“No,” Aleks said, and flipped the safety back on his pistol. “No, first you gotta talk. What the fuck are you doing here?” 

“Well,” James said, and gave a dangerous grin, “Maybe I should start over…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is curious with what happened to the 198X AU (What Staring Leads To), the next chapter is already over 6 pages long. I'm working on it, I'm just having a little trouble getting the characters to feel right. Thank you for being patient with me! 
> 
> I could absolutely dive deeper into this. I have the story James is gonna tell all mapped out in my head.


	2. Call_The_Police.AVI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How James ended up in Aleks and Brett's trunk, and how they're gonna move forward. 
> 
> Pre-relationship NovaHD
> 
> (.AVI!Verse)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried something kind of experimental (for me) at the beginning of the chapter, style wise. Let me know if it works or not. 
> 
> Title and final line is from "Call the Police" by This Good Robot

James’ life is not interesting. He wakes up and walks his dog in the mornings. He eats the same microwavable breakfast sandwich on weekdays. He analyzes departmental costs for a corporation, unfazed by the huge sums in each cell of his excel sheet - his bank accounts have looked similar in the past. After work, he goes to the gym. He makes himself dinner, he walks Ein again. His life is routine as hell, and he likes it that way. 

When he goes to sleep, James dreams about casino tokens, the sound of hiccuping laughter, the smell of iron and copper and gunpowder. He dreams about fire, heat on his cheeks and arm hair singed as he stands outside a ruined office building in Colorado, reduced to bricks and ash. Sometimes, if he’s unlucky, James dreams that he’s the one burning. His skin is bubbling and blistering and melting, he can feel his lungs go solid with the same ash burning in his throat, eyes boiling and bursting, his last sight is his own hand reaching out, reaching towards a man with brown hair, who walks away and leaves him there in the building. 

But either way, James wakes up and walks his dog. 

James lived that way for years. That in itself wasn’t interesting. He’d lived a lot of different ways for years of his life at a time: The loving son, the guy standing in an alleyway with dimebags, Nova, a Creature. It felt good to just be James - James that gets one beer with coworkers on Friday, but never stays for a second round, James that eats dinner alone, James that talks more to his dog than to people because he left his family behind and his friends have left him.

It was a beautiful spring morning when Ein started barking at his front door, cute little corgi butt wiggling madly. James almost didn’t want to answer the door when three sharp knocks rang out, wanted to keep scrolling through reddit on his phone, but Ein was whining now. James grumbled and got up to open the door, just enough to see who it was. Waiting for him, with bags under his eyes and hair past his shoulders was Joe. 

\--

“Wait, you’ve heard from Joe? Is he doing okay?” Aleks interrupted. He hadn’t heard from Joe since he and James went separate ways to go clean. James rolled his eyes, and shifted in his awkward position on his knees in the sand. 

“Let me finish!” He said. “And can I at least stand up?” Aleks frowned at him, then switched his pistol to his other hand in order to grab James by the bicep to help him up. His hands were still tied behind his back. 

“Thank you,” James said, not sounding grateful at all, and continued his story. 

\---

“James, I fucked up,” Joe said. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a couple of days, and there was sweat beading on his forehead under his baseball cap. 

“Joe?” James opened the door wider, glancing around the street. He didn’t see any obvious threats. Satisfied, he ushered Joe through his front door, his best friend almost sagging in relief. 

“Jesus, I’m sorry James, but I didn’t know what else to do,” Joe started, taking his baseball cap from his head to fiddle with nervously. James cut him off with a wave. 

“Slow down, tell me what’s going on, dude,” James said. Ein was panting, jumping on Joe’s legs to try and get his attention. She must have remembered Joe pretty well. Joe took a deep breath, sank down to bury his fingers in her fur, and told James everything. 

He needed money. Going clean hadn’t worked as well as he’d hoped, but he needed money, he needed to get farther away, he needed help. So James helped him, and then sent him out of the state. Joe thanked him profusely, he really did, he would have done anything for James, always would, and then he went off to college back on the East coast. That would have been that, if Joe hadn’t introduced him to a hacker named Jakob, who introduced him to Anna, who introduced him to Asher, and they were a mess. It was easy, too easy, to give them some tips, and then some orders, and then he had that buzz under his skin again that made his blood pump and his fingers twitch and next thing he knew, James was back on the highway to hell. 

\---

“Highway to hell?” Aleks asked in an incredulous voice. 

“And you said my accent sounded stupid,” Asher muttered behind him. Brett nodded in agreement. 

“What? Sorry my similies aren’t on goddamned point,” James snapped. 

“You mean metaphors,” Brett corrected. 

“Shut the fuck up, Hundar,” James rounded in him. There was a muscle in his neck that twitched, the one that gave away he was actually angry, and Aleks hated that he noticed it - that he still knew to look for it. 

“Easy, Nova,” Brett shot back, and Aleks also hated that he noticed Brett’s fingers tighten on his gun. It was the smart move, but still. This was James. Brett might not have known him as anything other than Nova, the Creature, but Brett knew Aleks pretty damn well, and Aleks knew James. 

“Yeah, James,” Aleks said, voice calm but not placating, unsure how his vocal chords remembered exactly what tone to use when James got angry. 

“Can you please,” James rounded, foot stamping in the desert sand, and upper body jerking with the awkward positioning of his hands as he turned around, “untie my fucking hands. Dude.” The ‘dude’ was tacked on through gritted teeth, a sign that James knew he had to calm down, the same kind of note Aleks’ tone had been. But Aleks couldn’t untie his hands. James was James, but the Fakes were his boss, his syndicate. They gave him a place and protection and everything he needed but had to leave behind with the Creatures. 

“One more thing, first,” Aleks said, but tucked his pistol away as a show of good faith. Brett had his out still, he’d take care of things if Asher tried to make a move. 

“What, man?” James asked, and for the first time in his monologuing, he sounded tired. 

“You left out why you ended up in my trunk. What’d you do to the Fakes?” 

“I mean, you left out why the trunk is yours in the first place. You’re working for the Fakes now?” James shot back. Offensive was his defensive. This definitely wasn’t just a misunderstanding with some of the more reckless Fake gangs. This was a real problem. 

“That’s not what we’re talking about, man. Come on. Why do the Fakes want you taken care of?” Aleks asked. James met his eyes for a solid thirty seconds, but Aleks didn’t look away. He needed to know what they were dealing with, because if James was here in front of him, he wouldn’t, couldn’t, only think about his stake in this. James let a short sigh, almost just a breath, pass his lips. He shifted his shoulders, stretching. 

“We took out a bank. They aren’t happy with the competition,” he finally said. Aleks shook his head, already exasperated. James had been back in his life for about seven minutes, and he was already tired of his shit. 

“The truth,” Aleks said, and didn’t let James even start to cut him off when he opened his mouth to protest. “No, James, you need to tell me all of it, I need to know all. Of. It.” 

“Why? So you can go back to the Fakes and tell ‘em everything? Get the rest of my guys put in your trunk too?” James spat back with a surprising amount of venom. Aleks wanted to tear his hair out.

“So I know what the hell we’re up against! So I can-” 

“What we’re up against?” James interrupted him, and there was something behind his eyes that made Aleks uncomfortable. He hoped it was just the desert heat getting to him. 

“Yeah, we?” Brett echoed. For a second, Aleks had kinda forgotten he was there. 

“Look, it’s not like-” Aleks started, but Brett shook his head and put his pistol back in its holster. His next move was flipping open a pocket knife and cutting through the zipties keeping James’ wrists together. 

“Brett!” Aleks protested. 

“I think you and Nova got some shit to talk about,” Brett said, like he hadn’t just ruined any leverage Aleks had to get James to even tell the truth. Then he turned to Asher, “you got a car, blondie?” 

“Uh, yeah,” Asher said, shifting his grip on the shotgun he was still holding. 

“Then you give ‘em a ride back to the city. Aleks, give me the keys.” Brett said. 

“What?” Aleks said, narrowing his eyes. Come on, that car was his baby, and he didn’t even know if he could trust this Asher guy.

“If you’re getting us wrapped up in something against the Fakes, then you’re gonna damn well talk your way through the entire plan. Call me when you’ve got something figured out. And don’t get us killed.” Brett said. Aleks frowned, and finally drew the keys out of his pocket and tossed them to the larger man.

“I didn’t say that was fine with us,” James frowned, still shaking out his wrists. The circulation must have really been cut off. 

“Shut up, Nova. You already know,” Brett said, without any malice. He didn’t even say what James already knew, but after a moment, James nodded. Some kind of agreement had passed between them, and it kind of pissed Aleks off. 

“Fine, let’s go. Take us to the truck, Asher,” James said, and Asher nodded before starting to walk back towards the dune he’d come from. “Come on, Aleks.” 

“Fuck off,” Aleks mumbled, picking his way through the desert after them. 

“Thought you wanted to hear the whole thing, Immortal,” James said, and flashed his narrow teeth in a smile that felt more like a snarl. Aleks forced himself not to bite back. Instead he waited until they made it back to the truck Asher had parked behind the sand dune, and wrenched the back door open. He watched James and Asher have a quick conversation out of mostly looks and gestures, before James opened the other back door and slid in. He slammed the door after him. 

“Can you not?” Asher asked, getting into the driver’s seat. 

“If I hadn’t paid for this car, sure,” James snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. Aleks wanted a cigarette. 

“You didn’t pay for this car, all of us paid for this car,” Asher responded patiently, making a show out of adjusting the rear view mirror and putting on his seat belt. “Buckle up!” 

“Shut up, Asher,” James said, sounding tired now. Aleks still just wanted a cigarette. Asher floored it, wheels spinning in the sand before finding purchase and sending them careening up the sand dunes. Aleks nearly slammed into the seat in front of him, catching himself and clinging to the door. He looked over at James to see a small, fond smile on his face, as he bounced around in his seat. His knee was wedged against the front passenger seat to keep him braced, with his arms still crossed. Silence stretched between them as Asher sent them into the air as they conquered the top of the dune and started racing down the other side. Behind them, a huge cloud of dust marked their progress. If this was how Asher always drove, Aleks wasn’t sure how he missed the fact James had back up. 

“Jesus Christ,” Aleks said in a strangled voice when Asher actually managed to send him into the air, off his seat when they went over a bump. 

“Don’t be a bitch, bitch,” James said, as if this sort of driving was both perfectly sound and normal.

“Bitch yourself, bitch! Don’t you have a better driver?” Aleks demanded. 

“I can hear you, you know,” Asher commented dryly, before making a harsh turn that had Aleks sprawling across the back seat. He barely avoided slamming his head into James’ lap. 

“Jesus, Asher, chill out,” James said, and almost immediately the driving became essentially fine. 

“Fuck you, man,” Aleks groaned, and righted himself in his seat. “What is the point of that? Seriously. Why would you drive like that on purpose.” 

“Fun,” Asher shrugged, and finally pulled out onto the main road. 

“I want a fuckin’ cigarette,” Aleks breathed out, and squeezed the bridge of his nose. 

“Not in our car, you won’t,” James said. 

“Bitch, does it look like I’m smoking?” Aleks asked, glaring over his hand. James shook his head, dimple showing in his cheek and half smile on his lips.  
“Cut it out with the bitch talk, children,” Asher chirped from the front seat. It reminded Aleks of Lindsay. Aleks turned to look out the window, watching the passing desert for a bit, before James finally cleared his throat. 

“We took out the wrong bank. Turns out Funhaus was stashing their money there,” he said, and Aleks let out a small exhale. “They want it back, but plenty of it’s gone already. Giving it all back probably wouldn’t solve things anyway.” 

“How the hell did you not know it was a Fake bank?” Aleks asked. 

“No, it was a real bank,” Asher said, and Aleks met his eyes in the rearview mirror for a second. He genuinely couldn’t tell if Asher was joking or not. 

“Are you fucking stupid?” Aleks asked. 

“Ignore him,” James said, and uncrossed his arms finally. “There isn’t much to tell beyond that. We just took from the wrong people.” 

“Alright,” Aleks said, and sat back. He stared out the front windshield for a moment. “We’re gonna have to figure out how to fix that.” 

“Again,” James said, and shot him a cheeky smile. It was a far more positive reaction than earlier. “We?” 

“Yeah, dipshit, we. You and me, we make great partners. I can’t just, like, not save you,” Aleks admitted, and the fuckin’ blinding grin he got in return was worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope this second chapter is worth the time to read. 
> 
> If anyone is curious about my 198X!AU, I have the final chapter plotted out, and I hope to write it up after this final stretch of school is over.


End file.
